* It is mid-afternoon on Monday, the third of May, in the year
eighteen-eighty-six.  Like many spring afternoons in Paris, this one is sunny
and warm, with the faintest of breezes slicing through the humidity this near to
the Seine.  Elliott Rowland has just left his latest lecture, a study on the
recent advances and theories in biochemistry as taught by Professor Martin. 
Just outside of the room--but still inside the university building where many of
Elliott's lectures are held--several students are milling around between
classes.  Most are heading out toward the library a few streets away, but some
are just coming inside for late afternoon lectures.  The stone floors of this
lecture hall's ground floor are worn smooth more from the shuffling footsteps of
students than from any diligence on the part of university staff, and the double
doors toward which the younger student nodded are heavy with glass windows. 
Elliott can see spring sunlight dappling a small but grassy lawn in front of the
building.
* A younger student whose name Elliott can't quite recall turns as he passes by. 
"You're Elliott Rowland, right?  The American?"
* Elliott blinks. "Err, yes? Yes, I am. May I help you with something?"
* Elliott speaks with a trace of an American accent, although it's not as strong
as one would suspect for someone who's lived most of his life in the States.
* The student glances toward the double doors through which many students are
walking even now.  "There are a couple of guys out there, asking about you. 
They're a bit... creepy."
<Elliott> Oh?  Hmmm.  Well, thank you for the warning, but I suppose I should go
see what they want.  Otherwise, it's possible that they'll come back at a later
time, when there are fewer people around.
* The student nods, half hearing, and makes a face that suggests relief that
nobody so creepy is asking after HIM.  "Well, I've got to get to my lecture. 
Good luck!"  He turns and heads up the hall, away from the doors.
* Elliott calls after him. "Have a good day!" He then turns and looks towards
the doors. "Oh dear. I wonder who they are, and what they could want." He moves
his satchel higher on his shoulder, freeing his hands, and slowly proceeds to
the doors. When he reaches them, he looks out the windows to see if he can spot
these "creepy" people.
* The individuals Elliott seeks are not at all difficult to spot.  A pair of
rough-faced men dressed in the drab browns and tans of workmen's clothing sit on
the sidewalk just outside the gate that surrounds the university building.  They
appear to be playing a game of dice, talking quietly to one another and glancing
up at students who walk past.
* Elliott briefly considers exiting the building by another route and avoiding
these men entirely, then decides that it's better to meet them now, in daylight
and with some warning. He pushes open the door and steps outside, stopping in
front of the two men. "Good day. I'm Elliott Rowland. I understand you were
inquiring about me?"
* The two men look up from their game when Elliott stands near them.  One scoops
the dice up and drops them into his pocket while the other stands quickly and
holds his hand out toward Elliott.  "The name's Jacques, sir, and this is my
friend Duval.  Sorry to interrupt your learnin', but we had a bet we wanted to
settle and we thought you were just the man to ask..."
* Elliott accepts Jacque's hand, and gives it a firm but not too hard shake.
"I'm flattered, but may I ask why you came to me? Or how you heard of me in the
first place, for that matter?"
* Duval has gotten to his feet by now, and stands dusting off his trouser legs
as he looks up and down the fairly busy sidewalk.  Jacques continues the
conversation in a pleasant, if somewhat whiskey-raw voice.  "Well, sir, we were
trying to find out a bit more about the accident down at the students' lab some
weeks back, and I asked around a bit until we found you."
* Elliott looks rather shamefaced. "Oh, yes. That. I suppose my name is rather
linked with it, isn't it?"
* Jacques nods.  "It is, at that.  Since yours was the first one we came across,
we never did find out if anybody else was involved.  Duval here thinks there
were at least two people there when it happened.  You know, somebody bumped into
somebody else, left a fire going, something like that..."
<Elliott> Honestly, my memories are a bit hazy.  I was the only person working
in my section of the laboratory that night, and by the time I realized that
there was a fire, it was nearly too late.  So I really don't have any idea how
it got started.  I wish I had been more alert, though...
* The talkative man nods again, in sympathy.  "Ah, but you can't see everything,
young sir.  So it WAS a fire that started it," he says with a smug glance at
Duval.  The other man hardly reacts.  In fact, he doesn't seem to be paying much
attention to the conversation at all.  "It must have been quite a blast to blow
you free like that without hurting you..." 
<Jacques>  Nobody we talked to said you were injured, and here you are in front
of me with all your parts!  What manner of chemicals could make a fire like
that, eh?
<Elliott> I'm not entirely sure, as I have no idea what other experiments were
being performed.  And, yes, it was a miracle that I escaped.  I'm not completely
certain how, but I am definitely grateful.
* Jacques' weathered face falls a bit.  "It is indeed a miracle that you
survived, but... Well, that was the crux of our wager!  Do you know who else was
working in the lab on the same day?  I'm determined to get my francs out of
Duval somehow!"
* Elliott shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't remember."
* Jacques sighs, his shoulders sagging a bit, and he reaches up to touch his
forehead respectfully.  "Well, thank you for trying to settle a gentleman's
wager.  We appreciate the information."  Without another word, he turns to go. 
Duval gives Elliott a long, searching look from head to toe, and then turns to
follow his friend up the sidewalk.
<Elliott> Have a good day, sirs.
* Elliott waits until they're out of earshot, then comments to himself, "Well,
that's rather odd. And it seems I've gained quite a reputation for myself. A
shame, really."
* And it was a shame.  The conversation thankfully proves little distraction to
Elliott as the day progresses.  When Elliott arrives at the modest little
lodging-house where several students have been staying, he finds an envelope
under his door.  The envelope is made of plain, yellowed paper and bears the
name "E. Rowland" in simple print on its face.  The back of the envelope is
devoid of any markings.]
* Elliott picks up the envelope and regards it curiously. He carefully shuts the
door to his room, then sets his satchel down next to his desk and has a seat. He
opens the envelope and pulls out whatever's inside.
[The envelope contains a single piece of paper, folded once.  The paper has a
few words typed by machine: "Telegram waiting at Rue d'Assess office"  Elliott
is well aware of the telegram office at the corner of Rue D'Assess and Rue
Michelet, just up the street from his boarding house.]
<Elliott> I wonder who would send me a telegram.
* Elliott checks the time. The office is still open, yes?
* According to the wind-up desk clock on Elliott's nightstand, it is currently
twenty minutes until five in the afternoon.  He should be able to reach the
office in time.]
* Elliott heads off to the Rue d'Assess office, taking the letter with him but
leaving his satchel in the room.
* The walk takes a little over ten minutes, but when Elliott arrives the clerk
politely informs him that there are no telegrams waiting for him.]
<Elliott> Are you sure?  I have this letter.
* Elliott shows it to the clerk.
* The clerk squints through the vertical bars that protect him from any vagrants
who might seek to steal the telegram machinery, or the fees taken from people
sending or receiving messages.  "I'm afraid that's not one of our messages, sir. 
It looks like one of ours, but if you look closely you'll see there's no
impression stamp in the bottom left corner.  We always put a little star stamp
there."
<Elliott> Hmmm.  That's very odd.  I wonder who did this, and why?  I suppose
I'd best head back, then.  Thank you for your time, and have a good evening.
* Elliott heads back to the lodging-house.
* Elliott is not more than halfway back to the lodging house when a familiar man
steps out of an alleyway to stand on the sidewalk just in front of him.  "Well,
well, well," Jacques says with a nasty grin.  "If it isn't our clumsy American
friend.  Good evening, young sir."
* Elliott blinks, startled, and nearly drops the letter. "Oh. It's you. Good
evening. Is there something you want?"
* Jacques chuckles.  "Oh, indeed.  Indeed there is, Mister Rowland.  My friends
and I were just talking, weren't we?"  He casts a glance into the alley beside
and toward a doorway shrouded in late afternoon shadows across the street. 
Duval emerges from the doorway, and three other men that Elliott has never seen
step out of various shadows up and down the street.
* A young couple who shares Elliott's misfortune of being in this part of the
street at this particular time lowers their heads and turns down a different
street to avoid trouble.  After they leave, there are no other pedestrians in
sight save for Jacques and his 'friends.'
* Elliott swallows and takes an involuntary step backwards. "You have... quite a
few friends." He glances behind him briefly, notes the couple leaving, and
swallows again. "Might I ask what this is all about?"
* Jacques nods and spreads his hands as if to show he's unarmed.  "Well, we just
wanted the pleasure of your company, sir.  A friend of ours is VERY interested
in hearing about your little laboratory accident."
* Elliott blinks a few more times and puts up his hands. "I told you everything
I know, sir! Surely you can tell this friend of yours what I said!"
* The leathery-faced man chuckles.  "Oh, I told him, Mister Rowland.  Believe me
when I tell you that.  However, he only got more curious.  Wanted to hear the
tale straight from the source, if you take my meaning.  He thinks maybe a little
chat might help jog your memory about some details you couldn't remember earlier
today."
* The men with Jacques fan out along the street, clearly trying to get around
Elliott and cut off his escape, should he try to run.
* Elliott starts backing up, hoping to get out of their reach. "Please, sir,
there isn't any more! I swear!"
* Jacques frowns and moves to follow Elliott.  His friends move with him,
somewhat more quickly and openly than before.  "There's always more, Mister
Rowland.  See, my friend is a spiritual man.  He's very keen on miracles.  He's
also a very scientific man, and even more keen on duplicating miracles if you
take my meaning.  There's a lot of knowledge you could share with him.  And
failing that, well... names, perhaps?"
* Elliott keeps backing up. "Miracles are wondrous things, yes. But I swear,
there's nothing else I can help you with! It was an accident! I don't know what
happened! For the love of God, please leave me alone!"
* Jacques spits.  "Can't do that.  I have my orders, and those orders are to
bring you back, peaceful or no.  Boys," he barks, "looks like we have to do this
the hard way."  Cloth rustles along the street as Jacques assembled 'friends'
pull short truncheons from the insides of their jackets.
* Elliott yells at the top of his lungs. "Help! Someone please help!"
* Elliott looks back over his shoulder at the opening that's still behind him,
and makes a run for it! Not at full speed, but at a decent enough one.
* The men curse and shout and chase after Elliott, but in vain.  Elliott runs a
couple of blocks before those in pursuit fall out of sight, but not quite out of
hearing.  The student can hear some of them shouting to each other: "--fast!" 
"Jacques, are we chasing demons?"  "No!  A fleet man could match that speed. 
Hurry up!"
* Elliott looks around. Is there anyone in sight?
* Elliott is running toward the Seine, but at a skew angle away from the nearest
university building.  The buildings here belong to the lower-middle class. 
Flower boxes and painted mantles decorate most buildings, and a few teenaged
boys and girls are gathered in front of one particularly well-lit house.  They
look up as Elliott approaches.
* Elliott looks at them. "Help, please! Call the police!"
* The children stare at Elliott wide-eyed for a moment, and then scatter to
different buildings.  Two run inside the building outside which they once
lingered.  For a while, nothing happens.  Jacques and his friends sound as
though they are getting closer...
* Elliott takes off running again, at a
fast-but-still-quite-possible-for-human-beings speed.
* The street on which Elliott runs ends in an intersection with one of the wide
thoroughfares that runs alongside the Seine.  Street traffic is still quite busy
here, just after five in the afternoon.  Horse-drawn carriages and pedestrians
clatter along their early evening business with hardly a glance at Elliott,
though a few people nearest to him give the American puzzled looks.]
* Elliott slows a bit and starts looking for a police officer or police station.
Anything to get those men away from him!
* Elliott walks a great distance up the street, following the flow of the Seine
toward the western part of the city.  Most of the people who live here seem to
be made up of the middle classes: factory foremen, technicians, and artisans. 
Several blocks ahead of Elliott and to his left, the lights of a large and
well-known construction site are visible above the rooftops.
* Elliott doesn't stop to look at the construction site and keeps one walking.
Hopefully he'll come to a police station soon. At least he seems to have lost
Jacques and company.
* Finally, Elliott spots the brightly-lit facade of a police station to his
left.  He's come quite a distance further west than he usually walks.  The
buildings here are much cleaner and more brightly lit than in his part of the
city.
* Elliott lets out a relieved sigh, and jogs up to the door of the police
station. If it looks like he needs to knock, he does so; otherwise, he simply
opens the door and enters.
* Elliott doesn't need to knock in order to enter.  As he steps inside the
building, a police officer looks up from his desk with a somewhat bored
expression on his face.  "May I help you?"  The entire police station is worn
wood, and despite the abundance of electric lighting it feels as stuffy and
cramped as a rabbit's warrens.
<Elliott> Yes, please!  There's a group of men chasing me!
* The man at the desk turns toward one of the windows at the front of the police
station.  The pedestrian and carriage traffic that Elliott first encountered
continues, though there is notably less activity as dusk settles on the city. 
"Really," the police officer says.  "I don't see anybody."
<Elliott> Well, I think I managed to get away from them for the time being.  But
they know where I'm staying, and I'm afraid they might come after me again!  I
can give you some names and their descriptions.
* The officer graces Elliott with a long, blank stare.  "Very well," he says as
he heaves a much put-upon sigh.  He produces several sheets of ordinary paper, a
black inkwell, and a pen.  "Why are these men chasing you, did you say?"  He dips
the pen into the inkwell and watches Elliott expectantly.
<Elliott> Well, I, um... I'm a student at the university, and a while ago I was
involved in a laboratory accident.  These men were very interested in that, for
some reason, and even though I told them all I could recall, they wanted to know
more.  And they said they had someone who wanted to hear this story directly
from me.  When I refused, they pulled out some weapons and I ran.
* After writing a sentence or two, the police officer trails off and looks up at
Elliott.  "I will file a... report against these men threatening you.  Describe
them, please."
* Elliott gives a brief description, focusing mainly on Jacques and Duval,
noting their clothing, their faces, and their mannerisms.
* The officer sniffs as he finishes taking these notes, then turns the paper
around and hands his pen to Elliott.  "Please print and sign your name at the
bottom of this paper."
* Elliott does so.
* After taking paper and pen back, the officer folds his hands and looks at
Elliott.  "I'm sure you've had a very harrowing night.  We'll put some men on
the street in your area straightaway."
* Elliott exhales. "Thank you officer. Would it be possible for me to get an
escort back to my lodgings?"
* The man at the desk frowns.  "Ah.  Well.  You see, we don't have any men
available for such duty at the MOMENT."
<Elliott> I don't mind waiting.
* The officer nods and begins shuffling papers around on his desk.  A hard
wooden bench sits across from his desk, to the left of the station's front door. 
Aside from that bench, an occupied desk and a pair of empty ones, and a
spiraling metal stairwell at the back of the station, there is precious little
else to see or do here.  The officer seems to be pointedly ignoring Elliott.
* Elliott sighs and has a seat. If nothing else, he'll wait for a while, and
hope that the goons have gone away.
* Time crawls past.  The officer at the desk pulls out a deck of cards and loses
a couple of games of solitaire.
* Elliott sits for a while, his patience beginning to wane. Surely those men
would have given up and left by now? He walks over to the door, opens it, and
takes a quick look at the street outside.
* The darkness outside the police station is quite complete.  The street seems
quiet and empty.
* Elliott looks back at the officer and decides that he's probably not going to
get much more help out of him. "I think I can make it back from here. Thank you
officer, and good night." He steps outside and starts heading for home, jogging
at a reasonable pace while keeping an eye out for strange men.
* As soon as Elliott comes around the corner, he spies a flicker of light as
somebody huddled in the darkness near the boarding house lights a match and puts
it to a cigarette.  Between that tiny light and the sparsely scattered street
lamps, Elliott can see at least five shapes positioned in the street outside his
boarding house.
* Elliott quickly ducks around the corner, hoping that no one spotted him. He
tries to think if there's any other place he could at least spend the night.
Ultimately he decides to head to the house of Professor Martin. Hopefully he'll
listen.
* Elliott manages to find his way to Professor Martin's home, and despite the
late hour he can see lights in two of the windows there.  He sighs in relief and
knocks on the Professor's door.
* A bit of muffled and surprised conversation passes inside the house, and after
a time the front door opens.  As Elliott's eyes adjust to the light, he can see
Professor Martin standing in the doorway, dressed in a loose-fitting smoking
jacket and pointing a revolver in Elliott's general direction.
* The professor lowers his weapon and blinks owlishly when he realizes the
identity of his visitor.  "Elliott?  My God, boy, what are you doing out at this
hour?  Come in, come in!"  He swings the door wide and ushers his student
inside.
* Elliott walks in. "I'm terribly sorry to disturb you at this hour, Professor,
but I really didn't know who else to turn to. There's a group of men after me.
They know about the accident at the laboratory, and they seem unusually
interested in it. And me."
* Professor Martin closes and locks the door behind Elliott, shaking his head
sadly.  "It's dreadful the way things are going these days.  Simply dreadful. 
Please, come into the sitting room."  Professor Martin leads Elliott into a
modest room with three walls that appear to have been built from bookshelves,
and a fourth that seems at first glance to be all windows and half-drawn
curtains.
* Elliott looks around the room as he continues. "I thought I might have escaped
them for the time being, but when I tried to go back to my room, they were
waiting for me. I'm really not sure what to do now."
* Seated in one of four high-backed chairs in the center of the room is a
handsome man in his middle years with calloused hands--a calloused hand, anyway. 
The man appears to have but one arm, though he wears his jacket with a sort of
rakish ease that makes him appear as if he's merely hiding his right arm for
show.
* Elliott stops suddenly. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had company."
* Professor Martin clicks his tongue.  "I don't know what's happening to this
city.  Truly I don't.  It's as if--oh!  Don't trouble yourself, Elliott.  There
are times for manners, and there are times for practical thinking.  Am I
correct, Captain?"
* The one-armed man smiles as he rises from the chair.  An empty shot glass sits
at the table beside his chair.  "As always, Devin.  As always."  Professor
Martin bustles out of the room.  "Make yourself at home," he calls out behind
him.  "Introduce yourselves!  I'll go and rouse Miss Lambert."
* Elliott walks over to the one-armed man, smiles politely, and extends his
hand. "Elliott Rowland, sir. I'm one of Professor Martin's students. A pleasure
to meet you."
* The one-armed man returns Elliott's smile and shakes the offered hand firmly. 
"Captain Hercule Avignon.  The pleasure is mine, Mister Rowland.  Please, have a
seat,"  the man says.  He waves toward one of the chairs after releasing
Elliott's hand, and returns to his own seat.  "It sounds as though you've had a
rough night.  Has anything like this happened before?"
* Elliott sits down. "Being chased by a group of men? No. But a while ago there
was this accident in one of the laboratories at the university. There was a
fire, and..." He pauses for a second. "...I barely made it out alive. It was a
miracle that I did."
* Captain Avignon watches Elliott for a while, studying the young man's face as
he speaks, and then turning his head toward the windows as his gaze focuses on
some invisible point.  "I can imagine so.  And after that--after tonight, as
well, will you stay in Paris?  I can tell from your accent that you were not
born here, though your French is very good."
<Elliott> Thank you, sir.  My mother was born here, though she moved to America
when she was fairly young.  She taught both me and my brother to speak French at
a young age.  As for whether or not I'll stay...
<Elliott> ...in all honesty, I love this city.  I've only been here for a year
or so, but I truly love it.
<Elliott> But I'm also not sure what to do now.
* The captain smiles, though his expression shows as much sorrow as it does
happiness.  "Something strange is happening in Paris, Mister Rowland.  Perhaps
it's happening everywhere.  Tell me something, if it pleases you.  These men who
followed you, were they after anything other than you personally?  Did they ask
you questions about anything specific?"
<Elliott> They wanted to know about the laboratory accident.  How it started,
what was involved, if anyone else was there... And they were insistent that I
tell this story to someone they were working for.  *Very* insistent.  Even
though I told them everything I could!
* Hercule nods, then narrows his eyes and leans forward in his chair.  "You
didn't JUST survive that fire, did you, Mister Rowland?  Something happened to
you at that time to make you... extraordinary."  The captain lifts his head and
looks toward the doorway of the sitting room.  He leans back and assumes a more
ready smile as Professor Martin bustles in.  "Oh, it's very late, sirs.  Very
late.  I hate to impose upon you, Captain but--"
* Elliott gives the Captain a very curious look, then turns to watch Professor
Martin as he comes in. He looks a bit confused, and somewhat intrigued, but
keeps quiet for the moment.
* Captain Avignon waves his hand dismissively.  "Think nothing of it, Devin.  It
is not much of a walk for me, and I for one am not in as much danger as you
young student here.  I will see you on the morrow, Professor."  He stands and
nods genially to the professor, then to Elliott.  "Mister Rowland.  Should you
wish to continue our conversation at a later time, I hope that Professor Martin
might direct you to my home."
* Elliott nods politely in return. "I think I would like that, sir. Thank you."
* The captain leaves quietly, and before Professor Martin or his bleary-eyed
housekeeper can protest any further.  Once he is gone, though, both turn their
attentions to Elliott.  They bundle him up to the guest room as quickly as
possible, chattering all the while about how young men need their sleep, and
shouldn't be out getting into trouble on the streets...
* Elliott sleeps, hopefully untroubled by dreams of fire or pursuing men.
* Though the night is unfortunately plagued with imagined flames, Elliott's day
is much less distressing.  Professor Martin privately dismisses his student from
his day's lectures for fear of wasting his breath on a student who might yet be
distracted after a long night and fitful slumber.
* Elliott sleeps a bit later than he's used to, and most likely partakes in
whatever morning meal is provided by the Professor's housekeeper. He debates
returning to his boardinghouse to retrieve some of his things, but decides
against it, just in case Jacques and his "friends" are still lurking nearby.
* He then gets directions and sets off for the Captain's house. It's a pleasant
walk, and takes him to the Seine, near Notre Dame. He's quite impressed when he
arrives, as it's a rather large house, and quite nice.
* The grounds of Avignon's home are surrounded by a low stone wall with an iron
fence atop it.  The gates of that fence are open when Elliott arrives, and the
heavy brass door knocker looks rather like an old gargoyle with a ring in its
mouth.  Shortly after the last loud knock, a trim butler with thin and graying
hair answers the door.  "Mister Elliott Rowland?" he asks.
<Elliott> Yes, I am.  I'm looking for Captain Avignon?
* The butler nods.  "Of course.  Please come this way."  He leads Elliott
through a house by the shortest means possible--so that Elliott gets to see only
enough of the building's interior to know that it is spacious and somewhat
sparsely furnished, rather like a university student's boarding house room on a
much grander scale.
* Elliott follows, giving a curious glance to his surroundings.
* At the back of the house, the butler leads Elliott through a door and onto the
lawn just as Captain Avignon is shouting "Throw!"  A young boy standing near the
house flings a pair of clay disks high into the air and toward the river. 
Captain Avignon, standing in the shade of his house, quickly aims a
heavy-looking revolver at the disks and squeezes the trigger.
* One of the clay disks shatters at the top of its flight, but the other one
lands in the grass before the one-armed captain fires a second time.  "Damn the
luck," he mutters as he turns away from the lawn.  "Oh!  Hello, Mister Rowland."
<Elliott> Good afternoon, Captain.  Is this a bad time?
* The butler sighs, having had his duty of introducing a guest snuffed out by
his employer.  He simply walks to Hercule's side and takes the pistol from him
so that Avignon can focus on getting a handshake out of Elliott.  "Not at all,
not at all.  I hoped you would pay me a visit today."
* Elliott shakes the Captain's hand. "I'm glad to hear that. I wanted to
continue our conversation from last night."
* Captain Avignon grins like a schoolboy who's guessed his way through a
difficult exam.  "Ah.  I was on to something, was I?"  The butler disappears
indoors as Avignon waves Elliott over to a bench overlooking the river.  This
furniture, though every bit as wooden as any other bench, looks much more
comfortable than the one in the police office.
* Elliott sits and gazes out over the river for a minute, trying to collect his
thoughts. Finally, he looks back at the Captain. "Sir, I... I'm not entirely
sure how you realized it, but... yes. The accident did change me."
* Hercule's expression grows more serious.  "How?  If you don't mind my asking,
of course."
<Elliott> Perhaps it would be easier if I showed you, sir.
* Elliott kneels down and, very slowly and carefully, proceeds to lift the bench
- and the captain - into the air. With one hand. After about a minute, he sets
it back down.
* Captain Avignon coughs a couple of times, showing his surprise at the display,
but he contains any sign of shock well before Elliott sets the bench on the
ground again.
<Elliott> That's only the beginning, actually.
* Elliott concentrates, and suddenly he's standing on the other side of the
lawn. Then he runs back to where he left Avignon, creating a visible tailwind.
<Elliott> My reflexes have improved as well.
* Hercule watches all of this in silence, eyebrows arched as he takes in these
impossible feats made real.  He nods when Elliott speaks, though still says
nothing.
<Elliott> And, finally... well, this isn't terribly impressive, but...
* Elliott reaches up and takes his glasses off. "I don't need these anymore. My
vision is perfect now."
* The captain smiles.  ~You are wise to leave them on~ he says, without opening
his mouth.  The words, spoken in his voice, simply appear in Elliott's thoughts
without crossing any intervening space.  ~It is a sign of strength and
responsibility that you do not flaunt the gifts you have acquired.~
* Elliott blinks a few times, his mouth in an "o" of surprise. He slips his
glasses back on and looks over at the Captain. "Sir? How?"
* When Avignon continues, he does so aloud.  "Though I have met precious few
with talents such as yours, there ARE people who possess powers far in excess of
the bounds you might expect from nature or science.  In that, at least, you are
not alone.  The question I would put to you, Mister Elliott Rowland, is this:
What would you do with the power you have, if you could use it openly and in any
fashion you choose?"
* Elliott considers this for a few minutes, then finally answers. "Sir, as I
told you last night, I love this city. I don't want to see things occurring like
what happened to me yesterday. So, I believe that if I could choose to use my
power in any way that I wanted, I would protect Paris. Most importantly, her
people."
* Captain Avignon listens to Elliott's response, and remains silent for nearly
as long as the younger man had done.  "Then allow me to make you an offer," he
says at length.  "A room in my home, should you need it.  Boarding as well,
whenever necessary."
<Hercule> There is something more sinister at work in this city than just a
handful of malcontents, Elliott, and in return for whatever aid you require of
me, I would ask you to help me seek out and put and end to whatever threats to
the city we find.  Within the law, of course.
* Elliott looks extremely surprised, then pleased. "It would be an honor, sir.
Thank you." He bows his head briefly in gratitude.
* The captain waves his arm over the back of the bench to indicate his house. 
"Then let me welcome you to your new home away from home," he says with a warm
smile and a quick wink.  "Care to take a look around?"
* Elliott smiles. "Yes, please."